


Night of the Unmasking

by justlikedaylightsavingstime



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Costume Parties & Masquerades, Fluff, M/M, Masquerade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 10:55:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5663644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikedaylightsavingstime/pseuds/justlikedaylightsavingstime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just one of your everyday, run of the mill, ceremonies. You know the ones. Dean just has to entertain some nobles, help his father to get everyone prepared for war, oh and there's the small matter of finding a spouse. What are the chances that he's going to chose the farmhand who snuck his way in?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night of the Unmasking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fairychangeling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairychangeling/gifts).



> I based this off the prompt "Historical AU. Masked Winter Ball. Dean trying to coax his dancing partner to take off his mask so he can see the full face of the man with the beautiful blue eyes". I tried to emphasize the fairytale aspect of it, and I hope it's okay I brought some platonic Meg & Cas in.
> 
> I'm woman enough to admit that I ended up writing this in a rush and didn't have the time I needed to do it justice (most noticeably seen in the lack of smut). It was a great idea and I had loads of stuff I'd have loved to have added if I'd had more time, so I'm really sorry for that bellacatbee. I'm going to do a part 2 at some point when my life has quietened down a little (lots of smut), and I may expand a little on what I've got here, to make up for it.
> 
> As always massive thanks to my ever adorable and fabulous beta, cassieisfab/agenderjackharkness who has yet again saved my bacon totally last minute and is very appreciated!
> 
> I hope you like it!

If you look just over that ridge, right into those shadows cast by the setting Sun you can catch a glimpse of Dragon Mountain. There are no dragons there now, and in truth none ever set foot in that particular mountain. Yet that distant outcrop still holds a great significance. Once upon a time, back when the entire country was purely a patchwork of competing kingdoms, Dragon Mountain marked the beginning of Winchester territory.   
  
The Kingdom of Winchester was never fated to endure a long life. In fact, only a few decades after our story ends the entire country would be bloodily swallowed up by its rivals who would tear it apart piece by piece. But that, my dear, is a story for another time. Our story begins just as the royal house of Winchester reached its zenith, when the omens of the end had barely begun to show themselves.  
  
Winchester was a prosperous land, filled with a cornucopia of rivers and woods and mines. It had everything required to make for a great land. Home mostly to farmers and yeomen, it did boast a royal family to oversee its smooth running. King John was well known throughout his kingdom, and was generally well liked. Some of the snootier nobles managed to find fault with his rougher edges, but the people of the land were content with the prosperity he seemed to heap upon them.  
  
Of course, when such a land finds relative peace within itself, it stands to reason that other kingdoms are going to want a piece. The forces of Hell were no exception to this. As a harsh country, one torn apart by violence and brutality, Hell had a reputation for aggression and a fondness for annexation. Once Winchester was on Hell’s radar war became inevitable.  
  
Never one to back down from a fight, King John had risen to the occasion. Winchester wouldn’t go down without a fight. Hell might have the military prowess but Winchester had so much more. Yet John knew that good people and a plentiful harvest would never be enough for this war. Solid preparation was the key. Troops were gathered, boots and weapons forged in vast numbers, and old laws were brought back into play. One of these laws in particular was going to cause an impressive amount of friction between John and his eldest son, Prince Dean.  
  
The Night of the Unmasking was an old tradition. It had been lost by the wayside over the years as Winchester defeated the last of its then enemies.  
  
The basic idea was that after war was declared the King would host a glorious masked ball. No expense would be spared as he celebrated and toasted his courtiers before he asked them for great sacrifices. It showed that whatever offensive was taking place wasn’t part of a whim. It raised moral and comradery before the horrors of war could even start and provided an important chance at networking between future generals.  
  
One of the most controversial features of the Night of the Unmasking was the unmasking itself. On that night, and that night alone, any couple who raised their masks in each other’s presence were well and truly, irrevocably, married. It had the primitive function of helping to boost numbers and maintain bloodlines as more noble children would undoubtedly be born from some of those matches. Many of the elders also claimed that it kept their leader safe on the battlefields, as a soldier who had a spouse warming their bed to return to would be much less likely to take unnecessary risks. John wasn’t convinced as to whether it was really a practicable way to prepare for war. But he knew the horrors that were awaiting them all too well and was willing to give just about anything a shot. Besides, all his advisors and the most influential families had also been pushing for the ceremony.  
  
Traditionally the unmasking was obligatory. Any unattached noble of age was supposed to participate. John should have known that even though he waived that part of the ritual, it was never going to be enough to appease Dean.  
  
****  
  
“What the Hell do you mean, we’re hosting a masked ball?” Dean demanded as he stormed into John’s quarters. Bobby was chasing along behind him, grumbling about how valets weren’t paid enough to deal with ungrateful idjits as he gave John a shrug that clearly said ‘ain’t my fault he ran in here after you specifically told me you weren’t to be interrupted, he’s your kid’.  
  
Shooing Bobby away with a smile, John turned his attention towards Dean. At least he could thank his lucky stars that he knew for a fact he’d got Sam on his side. Even John had a hard time standing up to both his self righteous sons at once. On the rare occasions when they teamed up against him they were a force to be reckoned with.“I thought the whole idea was pretty self-explanatory.”   
  
“Yeah, except for the bit where you’re forcing everyone to get married.”  
  
“For Christ’s sake, Dean. It’s not like that and you know it. The Night of the Unmasking is an important tradition. It’s a way to cement ties between…”  
  
“‘Families on the eve of war and to make sure our bloodlines continue’ yadayadayada. Yeah you can save the spiel. I’ve already had all that off Sammy. This isn’t right, Dad.”  
  
As John moved closer, Dean couldn’t help but make himself look smaller. It was instinct. He loved his Dad, and hated fighting with him, and he knew that both of them knew that. There was a sad glint to John’s eye, but it by no means overshadowed the typical steel of his gaze. “It’s just the way it has to be. You’re a man now Dean, you’ve got to understand why I have to do this. Even your brother gets it. You know how weak the noble families are at the moment. We need strength and commitment. Besides, I’ve mixed it up a little. The unmasking is optional, all I’ve asked is that every available noble person attends with an open mind.”  
  
“So what you’re saying is that you’re going to hold an age old ceremony in the form of a masked ball, force all the unattached nobles to come and then just highly suggest that they remove their masks in front of one another to officially declare themselves married.”  
  
Even the bubble of pride building in John’s chest at Dean’s resilience couldn’t stop him rolling his eyes. “Essentially, yes.”  
  
“You must be going senile in your old age.”  
  
It was a seriously important topic for John to let that particular little show of disrespect slide, normally he’d have been all over it. But he knew that Dean realized the gravity of the situation when he saw his Dad keeping his atypical cool “I’m counting on you here, son. I need you to set the example. If my eldest son can wholeheartedly embrace the ceremony then we’ve got a chance of the other nobles following suit. It could mean the difference between winning and losing this war before we’ve even begun.”  
  
“So everyone else is highly encouraged and you’re telling me that I _have_ to unmask myself at the ball.”  
  
“I’m not going to force you. If you absolutely detest everyone there then you can walk away. I won’t hold it over your head. But surely you can see how important this is to the kingdom?”  
  
One look at his Dad’s broken expression was all it took. “Fine, I’ll go find some poor shmuck who’s dumb enough to want to marry Dean Winchester. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”  
  
He might have accepted his fate, but that didn’t stop Dean from slamming the door like a petulant child on his way out. It certainly didn’t feel like a victory to John, but he knew it was the best verdict he was going to get.  
  
****  
  
Dean threw away his scarf in disgust as he stormed away from the mirror. His hands were just shaking too much. “I don’t think I can do this, Sammy.”  
  
Patiently his little brother retrieved the scarf from the bed, giving Dean a sympathetic glance as he tied it around Dean’s throat, finishing his outfit off by placing the intricate black and silver mask over Dean’s forehead.  
  
“Dad said we’ve got to lead by example.”  
  
“That’s easy for you to say, you’re already taken. Your unmasking is basically gonna be a wet dream for you. We all know how commitment turns you on, particularly when it comes to Jess.” There was something about the bitchface Sam sent him after Dean had ruffled his hair that made Dean feel just a marginal bit better.  
  
“I’m happy with Jess. And really this could prove to be a good thing. You could find someone who will make you happy too.”  
  
“Either that or I just find someone who really pisses Dad off.” Dean said with a grin, his mischievous brain already whirring into motion. Smoothing his shirt down, Dean cut off whatever lecture was about to come from Sam’s lips. “Anyway, we’d better get down there before we’re late.”  
  
Dean was nothing if not resourceful, and with a plan in place he was deadly.  
  
****  
  
Castiel had told Meg at least fifty times that they shouldn’t be here. He had absolutely no desire to discover exactly what King John would do to interloping plebs on this particularly stately evening. Yet his pigheaded friend had insisted on coming and had even ‘charmed’ (which by now he realised ‘charmed’ could be directly acquainted with stolen) fancy outfits for both of them. It wasn’t like he could have let her go to the ball alone, so somehow he was here, lurking in the corner and watching a world he’d never even dreamt of before play out in front of him.  
  
Cas had had no intention of dancing when he arrived tonight, his sole aim was to ensure that Meg got into as little trouble as possible. Which turned out to be nearly impossible as she quickly found herself in the arms of the first of many suitors for the night. Meg was happy, never short of a dancing partner. And as his longest friend, it made Cas happy just to watch her enjoy the night she’d been scheming for and dreaming about for the past few weeks. Even if it did leave him all alone in this foreign hall.  
  
The entire ballroom was surreal. It was all so bright and glittery, every surface reflecting back the smiles and laughter of the people in the room. People twirled and twirled around the dancefloor, skirts fanning out in giant swirls and coat tails floating on the air. The music floated gently on the air, nothing like the booming sounds and comforting beats of home. He’d never heard such artfully carefree laughter before as the babble of chatter grew louder and louder in the room.  
  
As magical as the entire scene was, there was just no way Castiel was meant to be here. He was a mere shadow to these people. He knew that if any of the beautifully dressed nobles realised that they had a farmhand in their midst then he was surely done for. If there was one thing commoners didn’t interfere with it was the grand Night of the Unmasking.  
  
No matter how many times Meg complimented the fabric that seemed to cling to every little inch of his body, Cas just wasn’t buying it. The deep blue doublet felt stiff and unnatural, and he couldn’t help but tug self-consciously at his sleeves. He must have looked so out of place with all his awkward gestures and fumblings.  
  
Yet here Castiel was, pleased to be given the chance just to wait and watch as these people celebrated the days of glories gone and glories to come. He was so focused on the wonders of the dancefloor that he completely missed the way the eyes of everyone who wasn’t dancing were drawn as one to the other end of the room. He missed the whispers about the man on the stairs, and the charismatic wave from the gracious recipient of such rumours.   
  
It felt like he spent hours sequestered away in his corner, content with his silent position as an outsider who was left well alone, at least until he felt the touch of a hand on his shoulder. He couldn’t help but jump a little at the touch, turning slightly to catch sight of the first person to show any interest in him all night.   
  
Castiel didn’t notice the carefully tailored clothes the man wore, or the way his hair had been meticulously groomed into place by a patient maid. What Castiel noticed were intelligent and sympathetic emerald eyes and a rumbling voice. It was certainly enough to make a more sentimental man weak at the knees.  
  
“It can all get a bit too much sometimes, can’t it?”  
  
The mysterious stranger thankfully seemed to accept the bashful nod as more reserved than rude and flashed Castiel a beaming smile. That could only be a good sign. But then the man was turning, as if to step away and leave Cas to his quiet corner. Castiel had no idea how he managed to summon up the courage to actually speak, but somehow he managed to make his voice work well enough to say the first thing that popped into his head in a desperate attempt to keep the man’s attention. “Would you like to dance?”  
  
Shit. Shit. Shit. What had he done? The only dancing Castiel knew how to do was the chaotic whirling and skipping at May Dances. Of all the things he could have said, that was probably the worst.  
  
****  
  
The minute Dean stepped out into the ballroom he could feel practically every set of eyes in the room on him, watching and evaluating his every move. The other men and women his own age were just as unsure of the resurrection of the Night of the Unmasking as Dean was. Nobody knew exactly what to expect. Some were scared, but many were excited. They’d all heard the rumours about how those who are lucky enough to reveal themselves will have their hearts truly blessed.  
  
With little more than a sigh, Dean drove into the crowd, chatting and flirting with anyone he happened across, asking countless people to dance and generally trying to make his presence known. Dean had to admit that it was one of the less arduous duties of being Prince. And yet half an hour later he found himself sneaking out of the hustle and bustle that made up the main block of the ballroom. Once he’d extricated himself from the crowd his feet carried him a little further out, giving him the perfect position to watch all the dancers and pick out which one exactly he was going to shock his father with tonight. It wouldn’t be too difficult to find someone suitably uncouth, and at the same time someone bearable enough that Dean could survive decades of marriage with them. It wasn’t like he was picky. He’d just been about to ask a particular brunet to dance in the hopes that he may prove to be a good fit when his eye was caught by a guy hovering on the edges of the celebration and all thoughts of any plan slipped out of his mind.   
  
The guy was undeniably gorgeous, and not in the ostentatious way that Dean was used to. He held an untainted kind of beauty, honest and unassuming. Something about the way he looked so uncomfortable in his get up and kept yanking on his cuffs was particularly endearing. The little smile of wonder just touching his face was enough to almost have Dean falling head over heels. Mind made up, he went to introduce himself.  
  
The simple blue mask on the man’s face offset the colour of his eyes, which Dean wasn’t ashamed to admit he was swimming in, overuse of clichés be damned. He greeted the man with some cheesy line about getting out of the crowd, but was surprised by the silent he received in return.  
  
Sure that he’d tanked when the guy just nodded, he was about to admit defeat with his heart (and his pride) a little jaded when the guy stopped him with just five words. “Would you like to dance?”  
  
Dean couldn’t keep his cocky smile to himself as he answered “I’d love to!”

****  
  
As he found himself held in arms of pure muscle, Castiel felt like he was floating along in a dream. He’d never danced like this before, all calm and refined. He felt like he’d been taken away by the fae, fated to dance in a magical realm for all eternity. Because it certainly didn’t feel real.  
  
The only dampener on the perfect moment was the way he just couldn’t get his feet to cooperate. On every other step he seemed to be stomping on his partner’s toes. Why was he such a klutz?  
  
His embarrassment soon waned as he lost himself in his mysterious partner. Even with all the layers of formal clothes separating the two of them, Castiel could still feel the heat coming from the man as he pressed in closer to him. He wanted nothing more than to lose himself in those arms and kiss those beautifully smiling lips. It was a little unsettling, Cas wasn’t usually one to experience such strong feelings. But all in, he had to admit he kind of liked it.  
  
****  
  
Dean’s feet may have been slightly sore thanks to his new dancing partner, but damn had he loved every minute of it, and he was sure to let the guy know(which drew out an adorable blush).He wouldn’t have danced with anyone else in the world at that point.  
  
As they drew off onto a hidden balcony Dean could hardly believe his luck. Not wasting any time he drew his blue eyed beauty into a kiss. He’d meant it to start off gentle, he had no intention of scaring the man away. And yet it didn’t take long for it to grow heated. Turned out the earlier blushed may have been misleading, Dean thought as he lost himself in the warmth of the guy’s embrace. Minutes may have gone by, or it may have been centuries for all Dean cared. That had to be the most amazing make out session of Dean’s life (and he wouldn’t even know where to begin counting all the people that had fallen for his particular brand of charm over the years).  
  
Breaking off the kiss, the other man breathed heavily, cracked lips slightly parted in a smile and eyes looking up at Dean in wonder. “Wait, I don’t even know your name!”  
  
Dean blinked in surprise. That was strange, one of his courtiers failing to recognise him. “I’m Dean. Prince Dean.”  
  
***  
  
After that frankly lifechanging kiss and that shock discovery, Castiel wasn’t entirely sure what was supposed to happen. Was he supposed to back away like a scared animal, or probably more likely run in fear of being found out? Either way it didn’t matter because something inside him pushed him to tell the truth. And he wasn’t one for lying or running anyway. He had a feeling that even if Dean rejected him, he wouldn’t turn him over to the guards. Or at least that’s what it’s looking like he was betting his life on.  
  
And that’s how he found himself sitting on a rickety roof, curled up against Prince fucking Dean and pouring his heart out. The Prince didn’t seem to care about his background, his life as a farm hand, and had in fact laughed heartily at the way Meg had snuck them both into the castle for the ceremony. What had started out as the most surreal evening in Castiel’s life had quickly soared to an entirely new level. The weirdest thing was that it didn’t even feel a little bit weird. It felt like this was exactly where he was meant to be and exactly what he was meant to be doing.  
  
One kiss soon turned into two, two into three and three into a dozen. It was quiet under the stars, just right for a Night of Unmasking. And Castiel truly felt like he was seeing Dean unmask himself as he learnt all about Dean’s life (which mostly revolved around his brother and father) and all his hopes and fears for the future.  
  
He wasn’t expecting it when Dean reached over and ran his fingertips along the seams of Castiel’s mask.  
  
“May I?”  
  
Castiel must have truly been under a spell, for barely one word of sense crossed through his mind. He knew what it meant for him if the masked was removed. He knew that none but the most malicious tortures were reserved for those who dared to besmirch the sanctity of the masked ball. And surely a commoner and a prince unmasking themselves in front of each other would be the ultimate blasphemy. But none of that crossed his mind. There was nothing else but those twinkling emerald eyes and that smile so filled with promise. It was one of those moments Meg fondly referred to as a ‘fuck it moment’.  
  
At least that’s what his heart sang even as he begrudgingly asked. “You know what this will mean for us, for the Kingdom? We barely know each other.”  
  
“No Cas, but I’m supposed to pick someone tonight. And I can honestly say that there’s no one I’d rather pick than you. If you do me the honour of doing this with me, of marrying me, I promise I’ll do the best I can. I’ll be the best man I can. And if you find you hate me, then there’s ways we can make sure we’re both still as happy as we can be.  
  
“I could never hate you.” Castiel said as he slipped his own mask over his unruly hair.   
  
****  
  
The beauty of Castiel’s face had Dean’s breath catching in his throat as the mask was pulled free. He wasted no time in slipping his own off, his impulsive nature leaving him no time to double think himself, at least not when there were handsome men to kiss.  
  
They were lost in the moment for too long, Dean needed to drag them back down to Earth. There was a reason he was here doing this, and it wasn’t purely for Castiel. He had duties, and one of them was to show the courtiers that the Winchesters stood behind the Night of the Unmasking. Wordlessly he took Castiel’s hand, placing a gentle kiss in the middle of his palm.  
  
“You know what we have to do?”  
  
****

Castiel found himself being led onto a large stage, Dean’s gentle hand on his elbow as he helped him up. As he settled himself against his husband (and wasn’t that a terrifying idea, he thought with a grin) Castiel had no idea about the shitstorm that was about rain down on them. Dean, on the other hand, knew exactly what kind of shitstorm was about to happen and wanted nothing more than to watch the look on his father’s face as he announced exactly what social strata of man he’d chosen as his husband.  
  
Except that now there was something he wanted more. Glancing down at where his hands joined with Castiel’s, he knew that this was so much more than a way to fulfil his duty or to stick his middle finger up at his father. This was his own tentative hope for the future. He might have only known this man for a few hours, and the chances were that they’d end up hating each other after a week of marriage, but Dean was ready to put a little faith in it. After all, they do say that on the Night of the Unmasking any who are lucky enough to reveal themselves will have their hearts truly blessed. And he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to try his hardest to make this work. He had a good feeling, for the little that that seemed to be worth.  
  
A hush settled around the ballroom as Dean lifted his and Castiel’s hands up high. His eyes never left Castiel’s face, not even for one quick satisfying glance at his father’s outraged expression. “I have unmasked. My husband is Castiel Novak, a farmhand from Milton.”  
  
The words may have been a bit formal and heavy, but that was old fashioned ceremonies for you. The uproar that followed had absolutely no effect the hopeful smiles on both Dean and Castiel’s faces. For better or for worse, it was done.  



End file.
